Chapter 15: The Bottom of the Pit

Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.1 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

Chapter 15–The Bottom of the Pit

Falling Down, Falling Apart – 24 December 2011

So long ago, my world came crashing down on me;

My dreams and happiness both disappeared, like smoke upon a summer breeze;

Struck down by enemies I felt, but could not see;

My guilt, my shame, my memories, had brought me to my knees.

I hid my emptiness from those who knew me best;

I staggered through my life each day behind a sullen face;

My thoughtless sarcasm the only weapon I possessed,

I lived inside my loneliness; I could not find redemption, nor any saving grace.

It took all my strength, my energy, to maintain my fragile self-control,

Despair, depression, nightmares all kept poisoning my core;

There was no way that I could wash Vietnam from my mind or soul,

Until one day I saw no point in living any more. Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.2 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

1968 - Age: 22-23

Some parts of our lives seem too painful to remember, so we do our best to block them out. It has been, for me, a titanic struggle to even focus on 1968. I have spent the past few weeks trying to recall that year, but very few specific incidents came back to me.

Superficially, my life continued along the path of late 1967 – I worked without great enthusiasm in the Publicity Section of the Queensland Government Tourist Bureau; I drank a lot, especially from Fridays after work through to late on Saturday nights. I had no goals, no dreams, no savings plans.

Home life in the New Farm flat, with Ron, Graeme and Gary1 gave me the comfort, the security and the friendship that I so desperately needed, but it could not compete with the inner demons of memory, guilt and shame, which haunted me nights and much of my secret waking thoughts.

1 Gary has confirmed that he and I first met on January 20 1968.

The Hitchener home in Burbong Street became my sanctuary, where it was possible to sometimes to push Vietnam from my mind for a few hours, because the absolute love of Bunty, Wendy and Peter was so strong, so constant, so absolute.

One thing that the Hitchener household encouraged/engaged in was a sense of zaniness (occasionally – okay, OFTEN fuelled by alcohol). We had a running joke, which ran for more than 40 years, about stampeding, rampaging elephants, who, when charging, loudly trumpeted „M‟TUK! M‟TOOK‟ (I was never entirely sure about the spelling).

It led me to write several other of my nonsense poetry, the following one about a war that I singlehandedly averted. The following, I would like to say, is, of course, a true story: Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.3 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

Vegetable Wars

"Excuse me, beg your pardon,

But there‟s trouble in your garden.

And I thought that I had better let you know."

So I quietly thanked the stranger

Who had warned me of the danger,

And calmly ventured forth to fight the foe.

I walked through the garden gate

Into an atmosphere of hate;

Where the carrots and potatoes were engaged in battle royal!

Cried I "Stop this wicked war!

Fighting‟s not what you‟re here for!

You‟re supposed to live in peace beneath the soil."

Then a potato, softly sighing,

Whose eyes were red from crying,

Whispered, "Sir, please do forgive our present state –

But you see, my youngest daughter

Isn‟t doing what she oughta:

She wants … she wants to take a carrot for a mate."

"Now, do not think that we are fussy, Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.4 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

And I assure you, she‟s no hussy;

But I feel we must uphold the colour bar.

She is white in every pore,

While he is orange to the core,

And an inter-vegie marriage would be taking things too far!"

Up spoke the leader carrot:

"Can‟t you hush that ageing parrot?

Potatoes think that they‟re much better class than we.

Yet, if we had half their chances,

We‟d make unforetold advances,

But, whoever heard of carrot chips for tea?"

"No, they get all the breaks –

Chips, and crisps, potato flakes;

The thing to munch while watching television.

Whereas, all that we are known for,

Almost all that we are grown for,

Is because Bugs Bunny likes us, and we help improve your vision." Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.5 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

"And if my son, Junior Bluey,

Who is crunchy, firm and chewy;

Couldn‟t make a better chip than her young daughter,

We‟ll concede that we‟re defeated,

And we won‟t get overheated

When you boil us in a saucepan full of water."

I thought deeply on the question,

And came up with a suggestion:

"This war must be resolved with utmost haste!

So, with complete impartiality,

I‟ll have two kinds of chips for tea,

And my connoisseur‟s palate will pass judgment on the taste."

Now, should you visit, when I‟m cooking,

And the meal seems funny-looking,

You may be in for quite a culinary surprise;

For, if my place is the venue,

There‟s a special on the menu –

Golden flounder fillets, with Supreme French Carrot Fries. Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.6 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

At some time during the year Ron, Graeme, Gary and I had moved from „Evelyn Court‟ our New Farm flat, and I returned briefly to Bert and Carmel, at Newmarket.

A little tale of coincidence: In chapter 14, I mentioned a young girl named Kerri, who had designs on me. Not long before I went back to Bert and Carmel, Kerri returned to her parents, who were living in New Guinea.

A week after moving to Newmarket, I received a letter, re-addressed from the New Farm address. The letter came from New Guinea, so I assumed it was from Kerri. I opened it, and found a sizzling love letter, which opened, „My dear and only Darling‟, and signed by „Your Loving Honey‟. Wow! I thought, I never realised just how deeply Kerri felt for me.

Two days later, an even more explicit letter arrived, which contained material certainly not fit for sharing with a family readership. When the third letter arrived the following day, I became VERY suspicious. I travelled back to New Farm, where our landlady, Mrs. Piccolo, greeted me with the words I dreaded to hear – "Oh, Mr. Wotherspoon, you wouldn‟t believe it, but ANOTHER Mr. Wotherspoon has moved into your old flat!"

I wrote a little note of apology to the unknown Mr. Wotherspoon (including my work phone number), and left his opened letters under his front door. Four days later he called me, and we met for a drink at the old National Hotel. He was Job Wotherspoon, an older man, an Englishman and a Civil Engineer, who thought the whole matter was a great joke. When he foolishly told his New Guinea lady friend, however, she saw no humour in the situation, and dumped him.

He told me it was my responsibility to find him another girl friend, which, given that I had never found a girl friend for ME without assistance from someone else, this seemed a greater task than I could ever complete.

When I told Bunty of my dilemma, she solved it. Just. Like. That. At her invitation, I took him out to Burbong Street, she had a long private discussion with him, he went home soon afterwards, and I only ever heard from him once more, some 25 years later. Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.7 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

As the year wore on, I found it impossible to escape Vietnam. My one foray into an R.S.L. Club2 had resulted in my leaving abruptly, ashamed and deeply upset by my contemptuous dismissal at the hands of World War II Veterans. Twice people had spat at me (not on me, just meaningfully and deliberately in my direction), and the anti-war voices became louder and stronger in Australian society

2 This was mentioned in Chapter 14.

Some 20 year old men had accepted jail sentences in preference to fighting in what they considered to be an unjust war. Simon Townsend, the creator of a popular children‟s television show, „Simon Townsend’s Wonder World‟, was the most high profile conscientious objector, and he spent time in jail for his stance against the increasingly unpopular war.

My mother and step-father would still not talk to me, and I felt incredible alone, ashamed, guilty and depressed.

I could not escape Vietnam – every day there were new stories about the war, about the anti-war movement, and every day someone made negative comments either to me or in my hearing. I also had flashbacks, and I lived in dread of loud noises and crowds. My nights were haunted by nightmares and bitter, self-directed thoughts of guilt, anger, shame.

I found no welcome home for me, and it too often seemed as if I had never returned from Vietnam.

Thirty or forty years later I wrote the following story that seemed to sum up how I felt about my life in 1968.

The Guest

Callaghan had never liked his guest, but somehow, he had never known how to ask the pest to leave. And so, every evening, they reflected on matters that Callaghan really didn’t want to think about. It was as though his visitor knew just what buttons to press, and how and when to press them. Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.8 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

For example, there was the night that attention focused on the Korean Army facility in Vung Tau, where they provided medical care for wounded Viet Cong soldiers. As usual, it was Callaghan’s guest who raised the topic, with the characteristic, casual, almost mocking voice that was both incredibly irritating but terrifyingly insistent.

"So tell me, Joseph, what did you see when you walked past that place? What did you hear? What did you feel?"

And Joe Callaghan would feel his body flooding with cold sweats and churning stomach juices. But he felt compelled to answer, in a small, shamed whisper.

"They just left them outside, in their beds and wheelchairs, in the rain, in the sun, in the wind. And no one ever came near them. They just lay there, or sat in their chairs, and they cried and moaned in their pain, and their fear. Until they died. And there was no treatment, or care for them. They were just … left there … to die. And I felt so, so useless, and guilty. One day, I tried to speak to the guards on the gate. But they just looked at me, and said I couldn’t go in. Dear God, why do you want to bring this up tonight?"

And that would destroy Callaghan’s sleep for yet another night.

Callaghan’s guest had a favourite subject – Long Tan. Time and again it would come up, and Callaghan found himself forced to justify himself over and over and over again.

"No, I wasn’t at the Battle of Long Tan," he would say, wearily. "My Company moved in the morning after. The battle was over."

"But what did you do, that morning after? What did you see? What did you feel? Tell me, Joseph." Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.9 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

We moved in, at first light, expecting to find D Company wiped out, expecting to find ourselves under that same massive enemy attack. But we found, 17 dead from D Company, and hundreds of Vietnamese bodies.

And what we did, that sunny morning in the cool green of the rubber trees, was, we buried 245 enemy bodies. It took us most of the day. And what I saw was death, and futility, and the emptiness of war. I did not see the enemy, just the shells of human beings whose time had come too soon, too violently. What I felt was guilt, and shame, and sorrow. And I prayed for each body that I buried, that he would find the peace beyond the curtain."

"But you lost something that day too, didn’t you?"

"Yes," whispered Callaghan. "I lost my faith. I prayed for the dead, and then, I lost my faith. What kind of God could allow this war to go on, to bring about so much pain and suffering and loss? My God had been a God of peace, of love. I could not comprehend that I was part of an army which believed it had God on its side."

Over the years, it became almost impossible for Joe to offer any sort of welcome or courtesy to his everyday guest. He grew solemn and morose, and at times refused to respond to questioning. But, it was no use. The visitor was persistent, and unruffled by silence, sullenness or anger. The questions just flowed on, until they all were answered.

Late one night, Callaghan came to understand the reality of his constant visitor. As always, the guest arrived unbidden, unannounced, just after two in the morning. Without benefit of hello, or any conventional small talk, the questioning began.

"What happened with your mate Billy, Joseph? Tell me about it. What plans did the two of you have? What stopped you doing that? How did you feel?" What did you do?" Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.10 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

At first, Callaghan simply refused to answer. Billy was nobody else’s business. He didn’t want to think about Billy, didn’t want to answer questions. For an hour or more, he paced the house, seeking respite from the questions at times by trying to read, to watch television, checking his email, and totally ignoring his visitor.

But the questions kept flooding his mind, burning themselves into his brain, with the inexorable purpose and pressure of water dripping away a stone. Like the stone, his resistance crumbled away, and he found himself responding, unwillingly, haltingly, despairingly.

Billy was my best mate in Vietnam. We were going to … Dear God, this is too hard! We were going to go on a giant pub crawl of all the RSL Clubs in Australia when we got home, and get free drinks, and be … heroes.

And then, he lost his arm, and came home so much earlier than me. And I never saw him again. He lost his arm .. it was just torn away, and with it went the dreams, the plans, the friendship.

It flooded back into Callaghan’s consciousness, as if it were a week ago. The numbness, the casual acceptance and unconcern, the soldier’s crude and callous humour that warded off the reality, the pain, the sorrow and the madness that war did not permit the common man to feel.

He recalled the night the company came back to Nui Dat. Sitting alone for hours in the Other Ranks Latrine, crying out his grief to the unfeeling, uncaring, unforgiving darkness.

Then, when he did come home, he went, once, to an RSL, as an unspoken promise to poor, lost Billy. He found no solace there, no friendship, no free drinks. Vietnam vets were treated with contempt by the members of the RSL. Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.11 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

After a while, Callaghan emerged from his bitter reverie, and looked around his empty lounge room. It was almost four a.m., and he felt totally wrung-out, devastated, and all-round crap.

He closed his eyes, and cursed his unseen guest.

"Who the hell do you think you are?’ he asked. "You come into my life whenever you like, and just tear me down all the time. I never asked you here, I don’t want you here. You’re not a guest, you’re not a visitor, and you’re an unwanted, unacceptable intrusion in my life, so get out!"

You don’t understand, do you Joe? Let me make it clear. I’m not your guest, or your friend, or your visitor, Callaghan. In fact, quite the reverse. You are my prisoner, Joe. For I am Vietnam, and I will never let you go.

Callaghan sat silently for another hour, until the first grey tinge of the new day faltered through his window. Until he recognised the truth that had been told him. He saw his future bleakly etched before him, with his days spent in the importances of family, work, and normal living, and his nights condemned to the perpetual nightmare of Vietnam. The inescapable memories, and their constant companions of guilt and shame, pain and punishment.

Callaghan wept. Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.12 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

Somewhere in 1968, I came to believe that the world would be a better place without me in it. The only problem was that I did not want to hurt those very few people who still loved me, who still cared about me.

The solution came when a position was advertised for a Travel Officer in the Melbourne office of the Bureau.In those days, seniority was still a major factor in promotions, and I was the senior staff member who was willing to transfer to Melbourne. I thought that, if I moved so far away from my supports, it would somehow be easier for them when I took myself out.

In the Brisbane office at the time was a very tall, very broad-shouldered man in his early 40s, Alick McCarthy, who always wore dark black suits. He was known to be an obsessively hard worker, and he had just been appointed as the new Manager of the Melbourne office . I thought he would be a difficult man to work for, and, if I was appointed to the Melbourne position, that would give me another reason to dislike my life.

I applied for the position, after asking advice from several of my drinking mates who were themselves Travel Officers, but I was deeply disappointed when John Webster, a clerk in the Melbourne office, was appointed to the job.

The Travel Officers in Brisbane, who all were firmly in favour of promotion by seniority, DEMANDED that I appeal the decision, and to engage the services of one Charlie Seymour, who was the solicitor of choice for Tourist Bureau appeals. Apparently he had never lost an appeal. I was also told, by people who had worked with John Webster, that he would be a pushover in an appeal.

I didn‟t really care about much except getting away from Brisbane, and I was set to contact Mr. Seymour, when Barry Mcphee suggested I try a bright young solicitor named Barry Smith. I took his advice, which provoked strong criticism from my fellow Bureau workers, and I lost the appeal comprehensively. The primary reason was that I had no experience of working on the travel counter. Journey of an Ordinary Man Chapter 14 p.13 ©Norm Wotherspoon 2011

Afterwards, the successful appointee, John Webster, shook my hand, and invited me to a celebratory drink at the Embassy Hotel, and we had a pleasant hour there.

John was a short, lisping, balding Englishman, who called everyone „mate‟, and his nickname was „Johnny Mate‟. Sometimes, for variety, he was referred to as „Yarrabah Jack‟, because he had worked for some years at Yarrabah Mission near Cairns.

After my disappointment had eased, I asked the Director-General of the Bureau, Joe Wilson, how I could get that experience. He suggested that I apply for a transfer to a branch office interstate as an unclassified clerk, to gain the necessary experience. I successfully applied for a vacant, unclassified position in Adelaide, but, another classification 1 Travel Officer position in Melbourne became vacant, and I successfully applied for it.

So, at the end of this most dreadful year, I packed my few belongings for my move to Melbourne, for what I thought would be the last little stage of my life. How wrong a boy can be!

About My Mental Illnesses

21 December 2011

Dear Blog Readers (you faithful few)! I am blessed to have some wonderful people in my life, lots of them, and I generally show the world a happy-ish face. However, once in a while, something danders me up a tad, and I find it is useful to write about it.

Something has been bothering me for several years, so I thought it was time to say something. As most or all of you know, I have mental illness (two actually). I have seen the pathetic efforts of governments to stamp out 'stigma' and 'discrimination', with T.V. ads that, quite frankly, suck. ("Jenny, Alison wants to join our netball team." "Oh, is she the one with schizophrenia?" "Yes." "Okay, we'll let her join." And the stigma and discrimination magically disappear!

Friends, here is how it is for me. I accepted in my head a long, long time ago that I could never be cured, but it took longer for my heart to accept it. But, now I am, if not exactly comfortable of my illnesses, I AM NOT ASHAMED OF THEM! They are a part of who I am, and those who know me personally would, I hope, say that I don't take my stuff out on other people, I am NOT a crazy would-be axe murderer, and I have achieved reasonable success in my life, despite my 'conditions'.

But, when people that I meet in my life talk about reducing the 'stigma' and discrimination', I feel like a third rate citizen, a vegetable with a voice. Instead of trying to change the opinions and beliefs of the rude, ignorant, or simply unknowing people, those government campaigns, in my personal opinion, give the rest of the world the impression that we are poor, imbecilic cretins who need help to wipe their bottoms, and the rest of the world MUST pity us (as well as patronise us).

Well, I don't want anyone reducing my stigma and discrimination, because I refuse to feel any. I just want to be judged on who I am, and how I walk through the world. And I think that, if there is any educational programs run by governments, they should throw the money into improving the self-beliefs of we who HAVE mental illnesses, so that we understand that there is nothing more wrong with us than people with other conditions (cancer, disabilities, deafness, blindness, etc.). We are NOT our illness. We are people who lead as full and good lives as we can. Sometimes we get sicker than others (like remissions). Let's get THAT word out!

Today is my regular weekly appointment with my psychiatrist, a man who has helped me so much in my understanding and management of my mental illness, that I travel 100 kilometres each week to see him. After that, I run a one hour creative writing group with the in-patients at the hospital where he consults. Today one lady said to me, that she has asked her psychiatrist what was the difference between a medical ward and a psychiatric ward. He told her that there was no real difference except in the illnesses the people had, and how they were treated. She said, "No doctor, there is one BIG difference. In a medical there are lots of flowers. In a psychiatric ward, hardly any."

I can tell you this, friends, too. In a psychiatric ward or hospital, there are very few visitors. Another patient told me today that she does not tell her family that she is going into hospital. She tells them she is going for a three week holiday. Some people are too ashamed to tell their friends or families that they have mental illness. And others have told family and friends, but have been treated almost with contempt and blame. Thanks for allowing me to rant. If you have mental illness, then DO NOT be ashamed of it! You don't have to tell the world, but you need to know, within yourself, that you are just as unique, just as good, just as wonderful as anyone else on the planet.

If you have family members or friends with mental illness, they have REAL illness, but the illness is NOT the person. I am incredibly lucky - I have a wife and three children, and some friends who have supported me through all the years of my suffering. A few of you have stuck with me since the 1960s. Thank you, my darling Margaret, and those others who have made it possible to continue with my journey, no matter how hard it gets. Those few of you who are actually reading my serialised life story know of some of my story. With much caring and warmth to all. Thank you. Norm

End of Year Review

For any readers of tyhis occasional blog, I usually write an annual letter to friends and family, sharing a few of our highlights (and sometimes lowlights) of each year. I thought from this year I would post it on my blog, to provide something a little more current than the ongoing saga of my life story (where I am only up to age 22, after 57,00o words in 14 chapters).

So, dear friends, here is the 2011 Wotherspoon Year in Review:

Norm and Margaret Wotherspoon

Narangba QUEENSLAND, 4504 Australia

21 December 2011

Telephone:        (07) 3886 9036 (Home)  

Email:   normw45@hotmail.com

Dear Family and Friends,

The Year 2011 in Review

It has been a difficult year, because three well-loved people in our world have left this life.

Sadly, Little Nan/Dot passed away in January. Although it was expected, the pain of loss of a much-loved family member always brings grief, and sadness, to a family. But we will always hold her in our hearts.

Mary Lutwyche, a dear friend with whom Margaret shared a flat in Melbourne, and with whom we worked, died in July.

And in August, Alison Parks, our darling Bunty, slipped away in August. Bunty, such a positive influence on my life, cherished by all who knew her, will never be forgotten, and will always be loved.

Love of My Life, Margaret: As always, Margaret has been the cornerstone of our family, the keeper of my heart, the one whose love & guidance has never let me down. At this stage, Margaret intends to retire from her part-time library career at the end of January. She will then be better able to care for me, & for her beautiful garden, which is currently suffering from the effects of a historically dry November. Also, to spend more time with our wonderful family & friends, & to take some well-earned holidays.

Jim and Gloria have spent the year mainly working too hard, with a couple of too-short holiday breaks. We will be spending Christmas Day with them (&, although Gloria will have to work, we hope to have some time with her during the day). It is some sort of wonderful that Jim & Gloria, together with our children (& our grandchildren) remain our closest friends.

Jane: Our over-achieving, workaholic daughter continues to be Steve’s loving partner, Angus & Isaac’s wonderful mother, our beautiful daughter and Emily & Tim’s incredible sister. Jane continues her work as a captioner for television programs, but has given study a rest to spend more time with her three darlings.

Steve:  This year I have come to like/love & admire Steve even more than before. He is a committed teacher, who actually cares about his students; he is a truly wonderful father – I love watching his interactions with Angus and Isaac, & he is a loving, attentive partner to Jane. 

Angus: Our eldest grandson is now 6 years old, & we were privileged to attend his birthday party at the Enchanted Garden in Dorrington Park.

He has almost completed his first year of school, which has been interesting for all involved (anything to do with Angus is interesting). One day his teacher was explaining something to the class, & Angus said, “That’s physics, Miss”!  She later told Jane, with some amazement, that he was absolutely right! A fascinating, intelligent, car-mad, active young Angus, who asserts that Liza Simpson IS EVERYONE’S favourite Simpsons’ character. Angus & I often play the Angus & Granddad Car Show Game, invented by Angus, presented by Angus with Granddad in a supporting role, & with EVERY car in his collection. The difficulty for me is that Angus knows the make of EVERY car he owns, and expects me to know them too, but I, alas, know about five cars by sight, most of which are Toyotas; he forgives me my ignorance.

Isaac: This beautiful little boy will be three in January. He is an affectionate, over-active, boundary-testing youngster, who can do things that are just a little bit naughty with the most angelic smile. He has a wonderful understanding of technological devices, both with my mobile phone (he can turn it on, then turn on the camera, & take photos, of which about 1% are fairly good shots); he plays I-Pad games with great concentration & much success. Isaac’s coordination is wondrous to behold – he throws & catches balls with great accuracy. Recently he threw a ball up in his room, & hit the light. He thought that was great fun, so he did it again. His father, fearing shattered light bulb slivers raining down, told Isaac, firmly, not to do it again or he would get be punished. Isaac looked at Dad, at the light, at Dad, at the light, & threw the ball, hitting the light again. Daddy gave him a tiny smack. Isaac went crying into Mummy in another room, but cleverly didn’t mention Daddy, simply cried, “Isaac hurt, Mummy”. So he was hugged & comforted UNTIL Mummy learned the full story.

Emily: Wonderful news! Our Emily is coming home in February. With our Troy, of course. For Emily, it was another year of working at the Royal Brisbane Hospital in the Occupational Therapy unit, working with in-patients suffering mental health conditions. Apart from that, Emily has continued in her multiple roles of loving Troy, caring sister and daughter, and, for the 6^th year running, won the title of Most Doting Aunt in the Universe! Well done, Em! She also takes incredibly good photos.        

Troy: We are looking forward to Troy and Emily’s arrival, although there seem strong indications that he is gradually converting Emily and Margaret to going vegetarian. My menus for the future may become much healthier (SIGH!!). Troy continues ensuring that the mails get through, in his role with Australia Post, he is completing his year of accounting studies, and manages to fit in his role/roles in Worlds of Warcraft (or something like that).

Timothy: Tim remains in Melbourne with Katy, writing music and plays, acting, singing, taking work when it comes along. He performed in a three-man show for the Melbourne Theatre Company earlier this year – ‘Australia- The Show’, to packed houses (consisting mainly of teenagers).

Margaret and I, in a completely full theatre, thought it very funny indeed, and Tim was magnificent, together with his two co-stars. I will ever remember him standing high on a chair, arm pointed to the heavens, singing ‘You always take the Weber with you’ (adapted from a Crowded House song. Tim and Katy also appeared in a Tim-written play, ‘The History Operation’ at      the Melbourne Fringe Festival.

Katy: The wonderful Katy has been busy teaching drama this year, together with a multitude of part-time jobs, as well as continuing to write. She and Tim reprised her award-winning play, ‘These Are the Isolate’ earlier in the year, and Margaret and I were privileged to see it. We are looking forward to seeing them both when they come to Brisbane after spending Christmas in Perth with Katy’s family.

Norm: It has been an interesting year, for me; I have continued my voluntary work in the mental health sector, and have been privileged to be a guest speaker for a few TAFE classes taught by some of my past students. I have managed to complete 57,000+ words, in 14 chapters, of my life story – and this is only up to the end of 1967! The last two chapters have been difficult, as is Chapter 15, which I am currently writing. However, I have partly overcome my natural procrastination by e-mailing each chapter to about 90 readers, mostly past students, and a few of them um, encourage me to keep writing. I have called it ‘Journey of an Ordinary Man’, which doesn’t sound exciting, but which is the way in which I see myself and my life. My health has had its ups and downs through the year, with various struggles with depression, and a seemingly ever-growing collection of other health problems old and new. However, I am still enjoying the journey immensely, and am incredibly fortunate to have so many wonderful people in my life, for which I thank you each and all.

Margaret and Norm:

Though we have been deeply touched by the loss of loved ones this year, we have had much joy besides.

We had a wonderful 29 day cruise in September-October, a circumnavigation of Australia on the Dawn Princess, absolutely joyful. We were pampered beyond our wildest expectations, with fantastic food, incredibly excellent service from every member of the crew we met, and the entertainment was superb. We have already booked a 14 day cruise to New Zealand (and back) for next November.

While we have our health, we want to undertake some travel to places we have long wanted to visit. So, in May next year, we are off on a major tour. We will firstly spend 8 days in England, where we will hire a car, and visit friends and relatives who were so good to us when we spent three months in the UK in 1980. Then we will take a tour of Europe, followed by another one to Ireland and other parts of the UK.

Unfortunately, we have had to retire our long-time house-carers, James and Trudy, but only because we will have Emily and Troy here from February onwards. Sadly, this means I have to go through ALL of my hoarded stuff, and cut it down!

Shirts, slacks, train tickets (sorry, that isn’t me – it’s someone else I know very well), my beloved gigantic desk (unless Troy and Emily want to share it); books, treasured coats and sweaters, books, memorabilia, and more BOOKS! O, the awfulness of it!

.

As always, we wish you love, and peace, and laughter, at this special time of year, and hope that the year ahead is filled with much joy and fulfillment.

With love and warmth,

Norm, Margaret, Jane & Steve, Angus, Isaac, Emily, Troy, Timothy, Katy and assorted pets.

Poem: I wrote this year’s poem for our darling Nanna Dot, and Jim and Margaret asked me to read it at her funeral. We still, and always will, miss you, darling Nanna, Little Mumma Dot.

Farewell Mumma /Nanna Dot

The journey’s over, little Dot, it’s time for us to part;

But our memories ensure that you will live on, in each heart.

You loved your children dearly, as good mothers tend to do,

You loved their children deeply, their children’s children too.

You were fiercely independent, didn’t always like advice;

You liked to smile & laugh at jokes, the naughty & the nice;

You played your weekly lotto games, you loved a little bet,

And you’d mutter, “Gee, I’d murder for a beer or cigarette!”

You loved to do the puzzles in the papers, Woman’s Day;

And you really loved to travel, overseas & far away.

Your cats were all so dear to you, each one a special friend,

And Don Lane, The Lanky Yankee, was for you, the Prince of men!

Mumma Dot, Dear Nanna Dot, it’s time to say goodbye,

There is love for you in every heart, and tears in every eye;

We thank you for the life you led, the love you had to give;

You will never be forgotten, as long as we shall live.